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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061900">A Magnificent Air of Authority</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gement/pseuds/Gement'>Gement</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kryptonite Collar by Red Starlight [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Consensual Rape Roleplay, Consent Play, Dom Clark Kent, Evil Superman, Forced Orgasms, M/M, Soft Aftercare, Temperature Play, consensual torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:48:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gement/pseuds/Gement</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce found 11 other realities where Superman took over the world. He knows, intellectually, that his Clark has just as much potential to do the same. Bruce is not known for avoiding his fears. Go hard or go home.</p><p>"I wondered if I could meet God-Emperor Kal-El."</p><p>Clark . . . is good with this. He goes hard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kryptonite Collar by Red Starlight [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Magnificent Air of Authority</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[ List of ways these foolhardy fools play hard is available in endnote. ] <a id="maghead" name="maghead"></a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clark touched down on Bruce's balcony and tapped on the glass; the door was unlatched and swung open. He had no idea what to expect, except that a late-night date meant no collar, since he couldn't recharge fast enough in an emergency. 'Something different,' Bruce had growled over the comms when they made the date, and wouldn't clarify further.</p><p>Bruce stood by the bed, wearing the dark turtleneck and slacks he usually preferred for computer work in the cave. His body language was prickly; Clark decided to wait on the kiss hello.</p><p>"So . . . something different?"</p><p>Bruce nodded. "I wondered if I could meet God-Emperor Kal-El." Everything about him was clipped, abrupt, guarded.</p><p>"I, uh. I'm not sure that's the best idea."</p><p>"Why? Afraid you won't want to give it up?"</p><p>"No, I, uh." Okay, Clark was maybe very slightly afraid of that, but not seriously so. And he couldn't honestly say he wasn't curious, or that he hadn't thought about playing that game, with someone brave enough. With the one person brave enough. Who was standing in front of him, sweating with nerves. "Bruce, what we've got, it's been working really well. This could be, for you, you have very valid concerns. Seeing me . . . If you couldn't unsee it. If you found it too disturbing, then —"</p><p>"If I didn't find it disturbing, I'd know you were pulling your punches. Which I don't want. Go hard or go home. But if you go hard, the limits are no injuries that would impair my patrol tomorrow night, nothing permanent, don't involve anyone else, finish by dawn, safeword's Lois. If I can't talk, I know you know Morse." He tapped ".-.. --- .. ..." on his thigh. "And if I'm unconscious, there's no problem." He'd spat out the whole speech in a rush, his face motionless.</p><p>Clark closed his eyes, imagining it, and knew what he had to say next. "You think you get a safeword?"</p><p>"I think I don't want you to have any doubt tomorrow. I don't expect to use it."</p><p>"No, you wouldn't expect that." He kept his eyes closed, unspooling the fantasy. He'd finally had enough of patience. Enough of pretending to be small. Enough of letting people hurt each other with their terrible, selfish decisions. There were casualties, obviously, but enough people already trusted his judgment that he didn't have to make too many examples.</p><p>People were flexible. Faced with him ruling whether they liked it or not, a lot of them decided to like it. The cults popped up without his help, venerating him, adoring him. He granted miracles. He ended hunger. He was the emissary of hope. A just ruler. A benevolent god.</p><p>Except to Bruce.</p><p>God-Emperor Kal-El opened his eyes and looked at the thorn in his side, finally in his grasp after months of trouble and irritation. He rose a few inches and floated one slow circle around Bruce, who hated feeling short and hated having people in his blind spots, as well as sharing the general human instinct that seemed to find smooth hovering instead of walking a threat.</p><p>Bruce didn't move. There were breathing and meditation tricks he used to keep his heart from racing, but they couldn't stop the sweating, the low tremor, the tiny irregularities. He couldn't suppress the spike in his pulse when Kal moved to within inches of his face and ran fingers along his eyebrows, momentarily smoothing the tension lines in his forehead.</p><p>Kal touched Bruce's temples, his throat, the hollows between his eyes and nose, all the vulnerable places the cowl kept hidden. He combed his fingers through Bruce's hair, then kissed his lips once. Bruce didn't respond in any way, staring straight ahead.</p><p>Kal tugged the collar of Bruce's turtleneck. "Take this off."</p><p>"Is that an order?"</p><p>"Mm. Order, yes, requirement, no. You've cooperated enough by turning yourself over. I'm not going to level a city over a little squirming." He watched carefully. "As long as you stay where I can find you, your people and your city are safe."</p><p>Bruce shuddered from low in his gut.</p><p>Kal smiled. "Now, if you want to keep clothing privileges, you'll take those off." He indicated head to toe with a brief gesture.</p><p>Nothing. Kal sighed, then ripped the cashmere sweater, undershirt, tailored slacks, and practical boxer-briefs to shreds. While they were still fluttering to the ground, he picked up Bruce's feet one at a time to pull his shoes and socks off. He did it quickly, leaving each of Bruce's feet an inch or so from the floor.</p><p>Bruce staggered forward as he landed. Most humans would have pitched into Kal and grabbed him for support. Bruce just barely managed to right himself, rocking on his feet before standing back to impassive attention.</p><p>Kal stood back further and gave Bruce a truly thorough looking-over. "You cleaned out first. Thoughtful of you. And . . . skipped dinner. Afraid I'll make you sick, Bruce?"</p><p>If Bruce was tempted by the obvious retort, it didn't show. "It seemed possible."</p><p>"But we both know you weren't doing me favors." He moved into Bruce's space to trail fingers down his ribs and sides. "You're trying to pretend you still have any dignity that I don't give you." He put his mouth to Bruce's ear. "You should shut down any alarms that would sound when I take you. I know you'd rather not distress your family."</p><p>Bruce's jaw tightened. He walked to the bed and sat to tap on a tablet briefly.</p><p>Line noise clicked from the bedside speaker, bringing the sound of various motors in the cave and Alfred's voice. "Yes, sir?"</p><p>Bruce shifted his face and shoulders to a relaxed expression. "Clark and I are going out. Don't wait up."</p><p>"Should I expect Mr. Kent for breakfast, then?" Alfred sounded pleased.</p><p>"No." Bruce grinned. "Definitely sleeping in. I'll have my JL comm if there's an emergency."</p><p>"A good night to you both then. Mr. Kent, you'll be most welcome at lunch."</p><p>"Good night, Alfred." Bruce hung up and set down the tablet. His shoulders dropped and his face went flat. He gestured at the comm sitting beside the tablet, then sat silently while Kal glided over to pick it up and put it with his own.</p><p>Kal studied his face. Fear, he'd expected, but what little expression Bruce had was almost grief. Resignation, the closest Bruce ever allowed himself to approach despair. And when Kal brought himself eye to eye, a deep, smoldering anger. Kal wondered, briefly, how closely their hypothetical casualty lists matched.</p><p>"Up."</p><p>Bruce didn't move. Kal put a hand around his throat and tugged gently. Bruce got to his feet without fighting it, until they stood brushing against each other with Kal still keeping tension on his neck.</p><p>"We'll have to work on that."</p><p>He wrapped a corner of his cape around Bruce's waist, then zipped around him once to pull him close and swaddle him. Only his head and bare feet would be exposed to the sharp cold of travel a few miles above sea level. He gave it about thirty seconds up there, not enough for frostbite or serious hypoxia, but enough to make sure Bruce had time to think about them.</p><p>He spun Bruce free of the cape for the final windy descent to the Fortress, shining in the midnight sun. "Welcome home," he said, then sped them to his guest room.</p><p>The guest room was perfectly impersonal, white on white without even a House of El crest on the door because, despite the opinions of certain nocturnal vigilantes, Clark did have a basic grasp of infosec. Kal let Bruce sway on his feet, shivering and coughing, and went to the control panel, where he brought the room to a toasty 80°F. It would take a while for Bruce, half-frozen and groggy, to realize the heat wasn't just contrast.</p><p>Bruce broke his silence. "Not your room?" That was promising. He had his fists clenched at his sides, presumably to resist curling in on himself for warmth.</p><p>"Eventually. Probably. I take lovers to my room. Do you feel like a lover tonight, Bruce?"</p><p>Silence.</p><p>"Eventually. But I think it'll take a while." Kal put a hand on Bruce's back; Bruce shuddered, unable to control his response. A light press, guiding him toward the bed; he planted his weight. Instead of shoving, Kal took him by a wrist as well, and Bruce <em>fought</em>.</p><p>Bruce fought like he meant to win, like there was any chance of him winning, like he'd rather smash bones against solid rock than go down whole. He didn't waste energy on noise, just tried to throw, lock, evade, escape in all possible combinations. Kal restrained him as carefully as he could, but even at speed, it was like playing Twister with a sack of angry snakes, all of which were willing to break their fangs on him.</p><p>Finally, Kal pinned him facedown on the bed, still thrashing. "If you manage to dislocate your own shoulder, that's not my fault," he said mildly. "But I will put it back in for you."</p><p>Bruce went still. Kal kissed the back of his neck, and he shuddered again. He didn't fight when Kal rolled him to his back. He was still covered in goosebumps, but sweat had broken out on his forehead from the fight. He stared at the diffuse white light of the ceiling. His cock was hard and leaking.</p><p>When Kal ran a hand down his chest and belly, Bruce closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. His pulse steadied. The shivering stopped. Kal brushed across his face, his nipples, the outlines of his muscles. He followed the thick line of hair down from Bruce's navel, pausing for a moment of anticipation with his fingers buried in curly fur.</p><p>Then he grabbed Bruce by the jaw instead, hard, and picked his head up an inch. "I gave you <em>one</em> rule. You stay where I can find you. You don't run, you don't try to kill yourself, and you don't disappear off to whatever mental mountaintop you're humming to yourself on right now. You stay here. With me." He held it until Bruce opened his eyes and glared. "Thank you."</p><p>Kal reached down for Bruce's cock, which had been flagging a little when Bruce tuned out but stood right back up under Kal's touch.</p><p>"Not that you would, but I don't recommend faking enthusiasm," he said. "Feel free to be more cooperative, though." Nothing. He shrugged. "Suit yourself."</p><p>He knelt between Bruce's legs, draping his cape to make sure Bruce could appreciate the contrast between full regalia and naked skin. Then he slid his mouth down around the head of Bruce's erection, no further, barely catching under the ridge with his teeth. He'd always wanted to experiment with this, but it wasn't <em>thoughtful</em> or <em>kind</em> or something to try if you wanted someone to go to bed with you twice. Willingly.</p><p>He flicked his tongue along Bruce's slit, just a little faster than humanly possible, and sucked hard, stretching time to feel for the twitch. There, again, and he started finding the little patterns that would force the movement again. After a few seconds, Bruce's hips jerked. Bruce grabbed the sheets hard in both hands, trying to stay still. Breaths hissed between his teeth, then he went silent, holding his breath.</p><p>Kal kept working at it patiently, touching nothing but the head, even when Bruce bucked up hard. He hit a good rhythm between a quick suck and a rub on the underside with his tongue; it made Bruce's body twitch harder and harder in a feedback loop until Bruce arched up with a shocked gasp. Kal swallowed, savoring the involuntary motions. It had taken just under a minute.</p><p>He lifted his head to watch Bruce. "One."</p><p>Bruce's face finally twisted into honest fear, nose wrinkled and eyes squeezed closed in a flash of despair. When he looked at Kal again, there was a plea for mercy lurking in there. It would take time to draw it out. Maybe hours, maybe weeks. Seeds took time to grow. But the seed was there.</p><p>Kal fetched lube and opened Bruce up with two fingers. Bruce took it without a fuss. Kal glanced up to make sure he hadn't snuck off again, but his eyes were open and he winced when Kal prodded his prostate.</p><p>With careful massage, Kal found a soft stroke to either side of the prostate that got a clench of pleasure along with the wince. Repeat, repeat. He vibrated his fingers briefly every time he found the right reaction. Bruce kicked his heel against the bed and grabbed the sheets again, but otherwise held still.</p><p>Bruce's cock drooled more and more even as it softened down, still giving up the ghost from the first round. Kal watched, fascinated. Harder pressure and a more continuous circular rub, as arousal let Bruce take more pain without losing responsiveness. Nearly there. Bruce's attempt to twist his hips just meant changing the angle to follow, though Kal did bother to pin that leg so the two of them wouldn't go rolling all over the bed.</p><p>A stronger response when he forced down Bruce's thigh, and Bruce groaned under his breath. That deserved more exploration later. First, though . . . He sped up, reinforcing the convulsive little movements until Bruce spasmed silently. Kal licked the come from Bruce's belly in three long strokes.</p><p>"Two."</p><p>That one had taken three minutes. He held down both of Bruce's thighs, forced his tongue past the twitching sphincters as deep as it would reach, and started on the next one. Seven minutes later, when Bruce's balls jerked against Kal's nose, Bruce actually whimpered.</p><p>"Three."</p><p>Kal sat up to enjoy the view and consider his next move. Bruce had definitely noticed the thermostat setting. His skin shone with sweat and was flushed pink, with his cheeks a hot red. His eyes watered, and his knuckles were white where he hadn't relaxed his grip yet. His breath heaved. He watched Kal warily.</p><p>"You're already three ahead, and I don't mean to let you have all the fun," Kal said. He shucked his costume and hovered over the bed, palming his cock slowly. "Even alternating, I'm sure I can get at least twelve out of you before morning. But that's if I'm doing everything myself. Multitasking the whole time. If you did your share instead of just lying there, I'd let you focus."</p><p>"Nn." That didn't get much of a reaction out of him. He might actually cave on it after another round or so, which wouldn't do.</p><p>"If you ask nicely, of course."</p><p>Bruce swallowed once and licked his lips. "What's nicely."</p><p>"Given your attitude so far, a full formal 'may I please, Lord Kal-El' would be appreciated."</p><p>Bruce actually rolled his eyes.</p><p>Kal didn't let his delight show on his face. He heated a line of points along Bruce's ribs, working from just below the armpit to the bottom of the ribcage in quick little pulses, exactly enough to get tiny bursts of steam on the nerves. He had to experiment with multiple pulses on the first few, but by the time he reached the floating ribs, he was nailing it first try. Bruce cried out sharply, and would have doubled over if Kal hadn't pushed him flat with enough force to leave a handprint on his chest.</p><p>"Squirming is one thing. Open disrespect's another. Basic civility, Bruce. I'll enforce it."</p><p>Bruce didn't say anything, just sucked air between gritted teeth. His eyes were scrunched closed.</p><p>"It's a start. At least you look like you're taking this seriously. I hope you're taking this seriously."</p><p>Bruce nodded quickly.</p><p>"Good. Because I am." Kal heated a matching line down the other side, for which Bruce managed to stay nearly silent. Even with the added difficulty of pain distractions, it took only a few minutes to suck off Bruce's limp cock, and Kal spent that time making sure he was thoroughly stretched and slicked up.</p><p>"Four."</p><p>He lifted Bruce by the hips to pull him up onto his cock. Bruce didn't react much, though his core muscles flexed pleasantly. His eyes looked glazed. Kal patted his cheek and he refocused.</p><p>"Hands on my hips," Kal said.</p><p>Bruce hesitated, probably trying to calculate whether obeying was an unacceptable capitulation, the first step down a slippery slope. It was, of course. When the pause lasted long enough that it couldn't be passed off as foggy thinking, Kal picked up Bruce's left hand and heated the nail bed of his pinky finger. He did it in the briefest bursts he could manage, slowly enough for Bruce to see the gaps between pulses of heat vision, letting the intensity build.</p><p>Bruce had his right hand clutched to Kal's side after three pulses, the fastest his voluntary nervous system could possibly have let him respond. Kal kept going. Bruce yanked pathetically on his trapped wrist, but was careful not to fight back, channeling his pain into hip thrusts. Finally, at a panicked grunt, Kal relented. Bruce curled his hand to hide it under his chin like a wounded animal.</p><p>"Hands on my hips," Kal repeated, as calmly as before. The speed of Bruce's obedience was gratifying.</p><p>Bruce felt good inside, which was hardly new information, but Kal hadn't banked on how arousing it would be to know that Bruce's hips were doing the begging that his mouth couldn't manage yet. <em>Please fuck me instead of that, please</em> anything <em>instead of that.</em> Even though Kal had stopped, Bruce kept moving a little.</p><p>"Mmm, that's better." Kal leaned forward for a nice angle and started thrusting, going for something quick. "I'd have thought coming four times in twenty minutes was enough pain for anyone, but you're always raising the bar. Did you need to feel like you'd put up enough of a fight? Or did you just need it?"</p><p>Bruce didn't say anything, just kept his hands firm on Kal's hips and his eyes downcast, somewhere around Kal's chest. His hair was matted with sweat, and it was dripping in his eyes. He'd apparently found his determined mode, where something needed doing and he would do it. Kal could work with that for a while.</p><p>He leaned down nose to nose. "Or did you need it to hurt before you could believe it was really happening? That sounds like you. That would explain a lot."</p><p>He was getting close. He settled into a good, steady finishing rhythm and pulled up Bruce's left hand again. Bruce yanked once before going with it, and his eyes met Kal's, searching. Had he done something wrong, the look said, could he please do something better? Was there some way, any way he could control this?</p><p>"Bruce," Kal said. "This is really happening." He blew a frosty puff of air across Bruce's bright red finger. Ice crystals sparkled.</p><p>An interesting fact about the mammalian nervous system was that it experienced adjacent warm and cold sensors firing at the same time as truly searing pain. This was why humans found water temperature changes so shocking. Kal sucked Bruce's finger all the way down, pressed the nail against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, and got himself off while Bruce screamed.</p><p>He stayed in when he'd finished, pulling Bruce snug onto his lap to avoid slipping out. "Mmmm." Everything felt great. Chest to chest, hot body around his relaxing cock. The whole bed smelled like Bruce's sex sweat, and Kal could still taste Bruce's come in his throat. Bruce shivered in some combination of pain, adrenaline, and exhaustion. He still had to be coaxed to put his head down on Kal's shoulder; he did it, but he didn't relax there.</p><p>"This is nice," Kal said softly. He worked their bodies together, waiting for his cock to wake up. "You know, one of the most depressing parts of fucking in a human alias? Right up there with the dishonesty. It was faking the one-and-done, when I could be playing come-early, come-often instead."</p><p>He licked salt from Bruce's neck. "So that's another record worth smashing. How many times I can come in you without pulling out. Obviously we'll have to revisit it once you're more enthusiastic. You can make spreadsheets. Optimize our pacing."</p><p>Bruce's breathing changed briefly. It might have been a laugh or an irritated sigh. He didn't move.</p><p>Kal stayed there, enjoying the contact, until his cock sprang back enough to shift Bruce safely. He kept Bruce wrapped around him, making a couch of his thighs so Bruce could lie back without leaving his lap. "Let's see. We were at four."</p><p>He plucked and sucked at Bruce's nipples for over ten minutes before deciding he couldn't manage it without more direct stimulation, at least not this far along. It was too hard to tell pain from pleasure or, more accurately, responses that would lead to physical orgasm from ones that wouldn't. He kept teasing Bruce's chest, but added a hard rolling thrust and some methodical scrotum massage.</p><p>Some positions were just too reliably good, and he didn't have to hide or hold back, so he went ahead and came again at almost the same time as he dragged another spasm out of Bruce. He couldn't quite tell if Bruce was coming dry, with all the sweat. He licked his hand. Still couldn't tell, but definitely getting there.</p><p>"Five," he said, and held Bruce close. "And it's already your turn again. But we'll take a minute, huh?"</p><p>Bruce just whimpered.</p><p>"This is what I want, really. End of the day." He wiped a layer of sweat down Bruce's back. "I don't need to hurt you. If you're good, I really don't. Just to have you. Right here. Close as I can get you. It's so good." He hugged Bruce carefully, always carefully, but tightly enough that he fought for lung expansion.</p><p>Kal rocked them together slowly, enjoying the moment. Bruce continued obstinately doing nothing, letting his arms hang.</p><p>"You still in there, Bruce?"</p><p>Bruce nodded.</p><p>"With words, please."</p><p>Bruce tensed a little, aware he was on thin ice. "I'm here. Not hiding." His voice rasped.</p><p>"You sound thirsty."</p><p>A shadow of a shrug.</p><p>"Would you like some water?"</p><p>A heavy sigh. "Yes."</p><p>"Yes, what?"</p><p>"Yes, I would enjoy drinking water." Bruce was carefully avoiding the slightest inflection. Nothing that could be taken as mouthing off.</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"I respectfully leave it to you when that happens."</p><p>Kal laughed under his breath. "Fair enough. But IV hydration exists, Bruce. I know you <em>could</em> live with never tasting fresh water again. Or you could ask nicely." He stroked Bruce's sticky hair.</p><p>Silence. Kal's cock was bouncing back, sliding in two loads of come and a well-stretched stubborn asshole.</p><p>"This is why it's always you," he said. "This is why it's always, always you. I know I can count on you." He mouthed along Bruce's ear. "Every time, you'll dig your heels in. Every time, you'll push back. You'll take so long to break. If you ever do. Maybe you'll just keep squirming for me forever."</p><p>Six. Bruce started sobbing. Kal kissed his face and thanked him.</p><p>Halfway to seven, Bruce tuned out a little too far and couldn't or wouldn't answer him. Kal blasted him with cold until his sweat crystalized and crackled, then placed a couple more strategic hot spots on his chest and thighs, once he was awake enough to appreciate them.</p><p>Working up to eight, Bruce faded again. He really was too dehydrated. Kal flew him to the sink, still impaled, and let him sip cool water from a cupped hand, over and over until his color looked better, and then a little more than that. He turned down the heat.</p><p>Bruce's legs kept cramping, which was partly dehydration but also partly all the kicking and thrashing, compounded by a lifetime of leg injuries. Kal gave up on the continuous fucking record so he could reach better.</p><p>"This scar tissue . . ." He massaged it out systematically, breaking up the clumps of angry fibers. He ignored Bruce's semi-voluntary attempts to fight him off. "Bluntly, Bruce, you've treated this body like shit. And probably shouldn't be trusted with its care. You should be thanking me."</p><p>The next time a hand slapped at him, he grabbed the wrist and went after the scars in the forearm instead. He worked his way around like that, from one limb to another, nothing methodical, enjoying the scenic route around the map of Bruce's life. He should be working toward round nine, but sorting out which of Bruce's twitches were getting anywhere had gotten frustrating. Scar massage drew out more interesting responses and he'd found a really tricky tendon. "Jesus, Bruce, what did you do to this one," he muttered under Bruce's howl of pain.</p><p>He should really give Bruce some kind of out. Some easier path. They could take a nap together, or Kal could keep fucking him without alternating for a while and let him sleep. But Bruce had to give first. He had to give <em>something</em>.</p><p>"You tired?" He prodded until he got a reaction. "Bruce. Since you can barely put two words together, you can just say please. Just a yes or no, and say please. Would you like a nap?"</p><p>Bruce glared at him dully and didn't say anything.</p><p>"When I ask a question, you answer it, Bruce. I'm going to have to start enforcing that. Would you like a nap?"</p><p>"Yes, I'd enjoy that."</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"Up to you."</p><p>Kal punched the mattress beside Bruce's head. The bed bounced. Bruce flinched away.</p><p>"One polite request, Bruce. One. I know you're capable of courtesy."</p><p>"Is that an order?"</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em> you, Bruce."</p><p>Bruce's eyes swept listlessly around the bed in a silent <em>Been there, done that.</em></p><p>Kal roasted his right pinky to match the left. The struggles were getting weaker and less satisfying. The ragged, high cries were still exciting, but they soured when he just wanted to hear one fucking 'please.' And now he'd have to wait for Bruce's system to calm down before he could even try for words again.</p><p>No one had ever said that torture could get <em>boring</em>. Well, villains had, but he'd assumed they were complaining for rhetorical effect.</p><p>"Clark," Bruce croaked.</p><p>That helped with motivation remarkably. Kal squeezed the hot fingernail until Bruce screamed. "Clark's not here. Try again."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>That was not a safeword. Whatever game he was playing, Kal was allowed to win it. The idea that he needed to be <em>allowed</em> to do anything sent a surge of anger through his chest.</p><p>"More terrible than an earthquake," Bruce whispered. "The nightmare of the world."</p><p>Kal spoke in his ear. "You will stop patronizing me, or you will suffer. The nerves in your teeth won't thank you if you keep talking."</p><p>"I believe you," Bruce said. His body was slack. "Never stop. No matter how far you demolish me. Never be enough."</p><p>"Nothing is enough!" Kal's shout rattled the room and made Bruce squeeze his eyes closed. He'd made a threat, and he should follow through or his words were worthless, his authority was worthless, how <em>dare</em> Bruce fuck with the game like this. He took Bruce's jaw delicately between two fingertips.</p><p>"Nothing will be." Bruce's eyes were open again, and sad. He didn't fight the turn of his head. "Not the whole world." He let Kal open his mouth with no resistance. He didn't blink or brace himself.</p><p>He would let him. He would let him do <em>anything</em>. He would take it, and he would never, ever, ever break. The perfect toy for venting a god's rage. Kal just had to tilt his head up, get line of sight. There would be no safeword. Bruce was not playing.</p><p>Kal's hand wouldn't move.</p><p>Bruce's jaw moved to speak again, and Kal let it. "Come home with me, Clark. Let me get my kryptonite. Take care of you."</p><p>The rage crumpled into a conflicted tangle. Bruce was not playing. His gaze was steady. He raised a shaking hand to tug Kal's, Clark's, <em>Kal's damnit</em> fingers from his jaw and pressed dry lips to Kal's knuckles. It was sincere, reverent. He let his hand fall.</p><p>"Bruce," Clark said under his breath. "You're in no condition."</p><p>"Trust me, Clark." Bruce still hadn't blinked. He shouldn't even be able to keep his eyes open.</p><p>Clark, <em>Kal</em>, Clark hesitated.</p><p>"I'll always take care of you." Bruce's voice was scraped raw. He sounded utterly certain.</p><p>Kal drew himself up, cold and terrible. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Bruce's forehead. Bruce closed his eyes.</p><p>Clark carried him into the shower and washed the reek of Bruce's sweat and sex and pain from their bodies. He fought down the urge to rush; he had to go slowly enough for Bruce to feel it, to know he was cared for. He managed to draw it out for almost three minutes, including drying Bruce down to his individual fingers and toes, careful not to jar the sore spots.</p><p>He suited up and bundled Bruce in his cape. "To the cave through the house? Are there alarms?"</p><p>"No alarms. Robe, though. Cameras fast, lift slow."</p><p>"Sure." They went back through Bruce's balcony and Clark dressed him in a robe ornate enough it could only really be called a dressing gown. He listened; no one was in the cave to be concerned by an unannounced elevator trip. He zipped Bruce down the side tunnel where the vault resided, then set him carefully on his feet, holding him up until he was steady.</p><p>"Wait by the elevator."</p><p>"Of course." Clark waited through the clicks and beeps, the vault door sliding open and then slamming closed with Bruce on the other side. If he passed out in there . . . Bruce knew his limits. The door clanged again to let him out. Shuffling footsteps as Bruce walked all the way out to meet Clark under his own power.</p><p>Bruce had walked off worse. He'd chosen, he'd <em>asked</em>, he'd . . . Clark didn't know how to feel. He put an arm around Bruce in the elevator. Nothing in Bruce's hands, and Clark definitely wasn't peeking through his pockets at this point. Feeling Bruce lean against him, legs trembling, was getting him aroused again, which was ridiculous and totally inappropriate.</p><p><em>Trust me</em>, Bruce had said. "Put us to bed," he said, just before the elevator doors opened in the study.</p><p>Clark had them both naked and sitting against the headboard with their legs tucked under Bruce's crisp, dark sheets before the secret entrance had even finished closing. He found the remote in a pocket and the collar pressed against Bruce's chest, held in place by the robe; he folded Bruce's hands around them, touching them as little as possible. Then he knelt alongside, head bowed low enough that Bruce would barely have to lift his hands, and waited.</p><p>Bruce ruffled his hair, then used both hands to close the collar around his neck until it latched. Did he seriously mean to knock Clark down with the collar when he could barely move his own arms? Clark waited, and he trusted.</p><p>"Thank you, Clark," Bruce said quietly. He settled a hand on Clark's neck. "Guard."</p><p>Clark's breath caught, then he nodded. He sat up. "Can I get you some water?"</p><p>Bruce smiled. "Yes." He flicked his eyes to the minifridge, where Clark found a water bottle and brought it for him, then lay down on his side to offer himself as a body pillow. Bruce lounged on him and sighed, letting his head fall back. "Good Clark."</p><p>Clark was at an odd angle where he couldn't really turn to look at Bruce. He stared at the wall, feeling the exhausted shivers against his body. "You planned that."</p><p>"No." Bruce drank more water. "Except in the sense of all possible contingencies. But I knew we could make it work. Whatever it needed to be." He tossed the empty bottle over the edge of the bed. "Give me your hand."</p><p>Clark rolled a little to free his arm and see Bruce's face. He held out his hand.</p><p>"I need sleep, and this needs conscious custody." Bruce locked eyes with Clark and pulled the collar remote strap around Clark's wrist. He held it up to show the buttons and pointed. "Hard shutdown. Unlock. If that collar so much as twitches, you push both of those and get distance. No other buttons."</p><p>Clark froze. His heart pounded.</p><p>"Guard, Clark."</p><p>He nodded dumbly.</p><p>Bruce petted his face once. "Good Clark." He lay down again, wincing with every movement. Clark made himself as supportive as possible until Bruce half-sprawled across him. A few more deep shudders, then Bruce's body slumped into sleep within seconds.</p><p>Clark lay still under Bruce's fragile, breathing weight. He watched his face. He guarded.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[[[ Contents include: forced repeated orgasms, non-destructive nerve torture including fingernails, unfulfilled threat of dental torture, extreme hot and cold, dehydration, breathplay-ish, struggling, mild humiliation and body privacy violations, hypothetical threats to family members, flipping the power dynamic to Dom Bruce to end the scene. ]]]</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="#maghead">Teleport back to top note</a></p><hr/><p>Thanks to Maribou for knowing the third act needed to flip when I was too much of a good sub (and floundering top) to see it, and for the phrase "More terrible than an earthquake," in particular. Without a satisfying conclusion, this work would have stayed in the completely unwritten personal fantasy category.</p><p>If you are <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Quiet_Place">A_Quiet_Place</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkayAristotle">OkayAristotle</a>, or <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonzai_bunny">bonzai_bunny</a>, and you think "Huh! I wrote a thing with one or more of these elements in it," that's probably not a coincidence. There are unavoidable echoes throughout to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth">Valmouth</a>'s <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683974">Control</a>, which I emphatically recommend.</p><p>Title is courtesy of Antoine de Saint Exupéry, <em>The Little Prince</em>, ch. 10.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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